Betrothed (3 page)

‘At least you got to be a hero,’ I said, smiling feebly.

Jack got up and came to me, gripped the tops of my arms and caught my eyes with his. ‘
Your
hero, Marla, always remember that.’

I felt tense and strange but then his smile returned as he made a fist of his hand and rubbed his knuckles on the top of my head.

‘Like
you
would let me forget,’ I said, smoothing my hair as I went to let Hilary in. Jack followed me to the door.

‘The best part was the mouth-to-mouth,’ he said, leaning down and whispering the words close to my ear. I gasped and turned to face him.

‘You did not give me mouth-to-mouth, Jack!’

‘Oh yes, I did,’ he assured me. ‘You tasted like strawberries. Mmm, yum.’ I felt my cheeks turn from cream to crimson. ‘You don’t remember?’ He wore a wide smirk. Hilary was knocking at the door again but I was too stunned to move.

‘No, I don’t.’

He was laughing as he stepped around me to open the door.

Hilary was ready for the beach, bag slung over one shoulder, bikini ties hanging over the neck of her T-shirt and thick chestnut hair tied into a ponytail.

‘Glad to see you’re up and about,’ she said peering around Jack to look at me. Her soft brown eyes were warm and not in the slightest way reproachful. Hilary reminded me of that nursery rhyme about little girls being made of sugar and spice and all things nice. She had one of those sweet round faces that couldn’t look mean even if she tried.

‘I’m sorry I scared you.’

‘Please don’t do it again.’

‘I won’t.’

She smiled and it was like the sun coming out. ‘It’s quiet here. Where is everyone?’ she said moving the conversation right along as she came inside.

‘Mum and Dad took Ashleigh shoe shopping. Her feet are getting so big, poor thing.’

‘Yeah, she’s much bigger than you—chunkier,’ Jack observed. ‘Like your mum. You can tell you’re the adopted one.’

My parents had tried for years to have a baby. I was the result of their giving up. My sister was the happy shock that came not long after. ‘That’s not the only reason she’s bigger,’ I whined. ‘I’d be chunkier too if I could actually eat.’

Jack stuck out his bottom lip. I’d had enough of his teasing so I attacked him with tickles. I was too fragile for him to retaliate and he knew it, so he just had to suck it up.

It was an idyllic March Sunday, clear blue above and just the whisper of a breeze. We found a quiet place on the sand and
spread out our towels. The beach stretched for miles, curving around the coast without interruption, settling eventually in to grass-covered hills. The pale sand was dotted with people, with more spilling out in the sea around the patrolled areas, and all along the beach the surfers were enjoying the waves.

Hilary and Jack were on babe watch but I was having a hard time feigning interest. Compared to Leif, every guy here was lacking. After a while I gave up the pretence and lay down on my towel to sunbake. As a little girl, my parents had tried to keep me out of the sun—being fair skinned and allergic to sunscreen, it was the responsible thing to do. But I was a sun magnet, always finding a way to thwart them, and when Mum and Dad realised the rays didn’t cause so much as a tinge of pink or the tiniest freckle on my fair skin they gave up the battle. I could feel the gentle needles of sunlight piercing me now, could almost visualise the pores in my skin opening to receive them. I closed my eyes and dozed.

I woke when a shadow fell across my face and opened my eyes to find Jason Mathews casting it. He was cute in a surfie kind of way and one of the more popular guys in our year. Some of the girls he hung around with made it clear they didn’t get why he was interested in me, and to be honest I was surprised myself—and flattered. He sat down beside me and made no attempt to conceal his eyes roaming up and down my body. When they eventually landed on my face he was startled.

‘Damn! What happened to you?’ He peeled his sunglasses away to get a better look.

Ignoring his outburst—who wouldn’t be horrified?—I sat up to tell him about my adventure in the make-up department.

‘Um . . . do you reckon you’ll be better by next Saturday coz I
was
planning on taking you out?’

Jack pushed out a loud sigh and I felt my face grow hot. ‘Would you be embarrassed to be seen with me if I’m not?’

‘Course not,’ Jason said sounding anything but convincing. He glanced down to his feet, dug his toes into the sand. ‘I just thought you might not want to go out in public looking like that.’

‘I
am
in public,’ I said, not bothering to mask my irritation. Jack and Hilary were paying attention and knowing that Jack could jump to my defence at any moment gave me courage.

‘I meant as in a
date
out,’ Jason said, then paused for a moment as he continued to watch his feet. ‘So . . . what do you think?’ He looked back to me.

‘I think you should ask me later when you can see if I look good enough to be seen with you,’ I mumbled.

‘I didn’t mean anything, I just thought—’

‘Are you serious?’ Jack cut in. ‘Jason, why don’t you just shut your mouth? Then it’s impossible to talk crap—even for you.’ Jason’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Jack. Jack glared right back. I knew if I weren’t there they would have had a whole lot more to say to each other.

Jason’s friend Simone—standing nearby and no fan of mine—had been watching silently, but spoke up now. ‘Jason, why are you even bothering with these losers?’

‘Shut up, Simone,’ he snapped. He was still seething, but he got up to leave with his friends. ‘I’ll see you later, Amy,’ he said as he put his sunglasses back on.

‘Sure,’ I said, relieved they were going.

‘What a moron,’ Jack muttered after they’d walked off along the beach.

‘You know he’s got a way of putting his foot in his mouth.’ Hilary had a rare and wonderful gift of always finding the good in people—and if she couldn’t find the good, she was sure to find a good excuse.

‘No, he’s just a moron,’ Jack insisted.

‘Jack, there’s always a reason when people . . . ’ Hilary started.

Jack held a hand up to her. ‘Spare me the wisdom bomb about that piece of crap!’

‘He’s not that bad,’ I murmured. It was only natural Jason would be shocked at my messed up face.

‘You two are unbelievable.’ Jack’s eyes were round with amazement. ‘Please tell me you’re not actually going to go out with him.’

‘Haven’t decided yet,’ I said with a shrug. ‘But I probably will. It’s not like I’m all overcome with better offers or anything.’

‘And that’s a reason to go out with him?’ Jack scowled and shook his head. ‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘Why should you care?’

Jack watched me for a long moment. I watched him back, a little breathless at the intensity in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and sighed before finally answering, ‘No reason. Do what you want.’

I felt a bit sick inside but made up my mind right then—I would go out with Jason.

After dinner that night I went to my room to read. My sister was sitting on her bed, flicking through a magazine. Music blared from around the edges of her earphones. I waved as I fell onto my bed, grabbed my book from the bedside table and immersed myself in the eighteenth century. An hour or so later, my eyelids started to get heavy. I marked my page and flicked off my lamp before closing my eyes and burrowing beneath my quilt. Within moments I was drifting away.

It seemed barely any time had passed and I was back in the forest. Soft leaves crinkled under my toes, the river sang close by and sunlight streamed through the trees, turning everything it
touched to gold. And Leif was there. He came to me quickly, a striking smile on his face.

‘Marla,’ he said, a sigh slipping from his lips with the name.

I couldn’t respond. I could only stare as his eyes pulled me in. Again I felt that bizarre urge to lift his hand and press it to my lips. I clasped my hands together to stop myself and forced myself to speak.

‘Why do you call me Marla? That’s not my name.’

‘You are Marla. Were you not, you would not have answered my call.’ He reached for me, eased my hands apart and wove his fingers through mine. Then he pressed my palms to his. Delicious hot shivers began in my hands and trailed all the way up my arms.

I startled at the sensation, but he wasn’t surprised by it. He said, ‘I am perfect to you as you are to me. You can feel it, can you not?’

‘Oh, yes.’ The connection couldn’t be denied, but I had no way to understand it. Then from deep within my mind the truth surfaced. ‘But I’m only dreaming you.’

He reached up and ran his fingers down the edge of my jaw. ‘You do not dream, Marla. Go find your true self. And please, be hasty, time is running out.’

I could resist no longer. I captured his hand in mine, brought it to my mouth and pressed a kiss to his palm.

I woke up then and touched a finger to my mouth. My lips ached and pulsed with heat from the touch of his hand.

‘Leif,’ I sighed as I began to breathe again. I reflected on his words as I lay in bed. It seemed so much more than a dream. There had to be something in it. I glanced at my mobile—eleven thirty. I wandered out to the living room to see if my parents were still up. Dad was making a cup of tea.

He looked up and smiled as I joined him in the kitchen.

‘Dad, does the name Marla mean anything to you?’

‘I don’t think so. Should it?’

‘I suppose not. Mum still awake?’

‘She’s reading.’

The name meant nothing to my mother either.

The next day I declined Jack’s offer of a lift to school, wanting the half-hour walk to wake me up. I lifted my face to the sky to feel the sun pour into me and by the time I arrived I felt better. But I only had a few minutes to spare, which left no time to seek out my friends, so I made my way straight to my biology class.

‘Hey, Smith,’ someone yelled as I strolled up the path. Damn, Mark Levine. I was sure he’d been born just to make my life hell—that and to pull the wings off flies. He was walking nearby with his equally stupid friend Tom Maynard and I knew they were about to have some fun at my expense. I felt that horrible sinking clench inside and dipped my face to the footpath as I picked up the pace. I wished Jack was with me. He was my strength, and in situations like this I was a shadow without him.

‘Your face is a mess, woman!’ Mark yelled, loud enough so that all nearby could enjoy his wit. Meanwhile Tom was racing around like a clown with his hair on fire, shrieking for everyone to run—that a genetics experiment had escaped the science lab. My swollen cheeks burned. ‘Have you been bashing yourself up again?’ Mark continued, keeping up with me as I hurried along and yelling over the top of Tom’s antics. ‘Man . . . you’re brutal! You
really
need to take out a restraining order against yourself!’ Both guys and a bunch of spectators had a good laugh before launching into a competition to try and outdo each other with insults.

They were idiots and after years of putting up with such torment, I’d learned to toughen up to their kind, well, to appear
tough at least. But even so, the scar in my heart throbbed. I was eight again, covered in bandages and wishing for a little piece of magic, an invisibility cape with the power to take me home in a single whoosh. For about the millionth time, I wondered why I’d been born so weird. Tears gathered behind my eyes. I blinked a few times to keep them back. The last thing I wanted was to be seen wiping them away.